Things Just Don't Go Right
by MarblesG
Summary: Mycroft decided its finally time he asked Anthea out on a date. The universe decided it had other plans.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes Mycroft wondered why he continued his career.

Much to Sherlock's unknowing knowledge, Mycroft did not always sit in his office looking at files. With his position in the government, there were always people looking for him. A month ago, a couple snipers were being pointed at him during a meeting and Mycroft was only a hair short of a bullet graze. Two weeks ago, Anthea and himself were running through the streets of London (that's right, running!) trying to escape a car stalking them down. Yesterday was the only day he could think of that was incident free, surprisingly.

So it annoyed him when Sherlock would come into his office thinking all he did was sit there and drink tea.

"Stop sending me cases, Mycroft. You can solve these yourself if you would just get up rather than drink tea."

Mycroft sipped his tea (The universe just loved making him look this way in front of his brother.).

"I know you have already solved the case. You just don't want to check your deductions yourself."

He sipped some more tea and stared at his brother without any bit of emotion. His head was spinning. There was something he was forgetting.

"Mycroft. Are you even listening?"

"Sherlock, does he look a bit.."

Sleep sounded wonderful as of right now. Now that he thinks about it, he's getting a bit drowsy.

"Mycroft, can you hear me?"

Was Dr. Watson always in the room? Sherlock's ranting had a tendency to block everyone else out. The door opened but he didn't even glance.

"Anthea, what's wrong with my brother?"

There was a clicking of heels and suddenly there was an arm around his body. He began leaning towards the person embracing him.

"Sir has a concussion."

A concussion? Why would he have a concussion? He doesn't even remember getting hit…ooooooh.

"From what?"

"He was hit in the head with a lamp."

"A lamp?"

"Long story. His memory may be bits and pieces."

"What happened?"

Mycroft was already snoring loudly as Anthea began retelling yesterday's events.


	2. Chapter 2

He decided that today would be the day. Oh yes, after six long years, he was going to do this today. He had made all the calls and memorized his exact words. There was nothing that was going to stop him.

Mycroft sat in his chair and wrung his hands countless times. He had gotten to his office two hours ago and instead of commencing his daily routine of reading files, attending meetings, and calling his superiors (if she was in need of any service), he had been sitting and waiting. There were only a few things in this world that can get Mycroft Holmes nervous. Sherlock, with his dangerous tendencies, was one of them. Confined spaces was another (yes, the British Government has claustrophobia).

And last but not least, his personal assistant.

Now, Anthea didn't cause Mycroft anxiety in a negative way. It was more of the fact that Mycroft was actually attracted to his assistant. He had found her beautiful since the first day she had worked for him. Over the years, however, he had witnessed Anthea blossom in a sense. They had gotten to know each other over the years and were now excellent friends. Mycroft found her flirtatious way of talking interest him deeply. She wasn't like other people. She was clever. Intelligent really. Mycroft liked that. He had realized this a few weeks ago sitting at home alone after a full day of doing paperwork with Anthea in his home office. He missed her presence.

Since then, Mycroft found himself falling victim to the common behavior of a male infatuated with a woman. He stumbled with his words, clumsily spilt tea, fixed his hair and actually pondered on what suit he should wear in the mornings. He despised being human sometimes.

So, as a solution, Mycroft had decided giving in to his feelings. Surprsing, yes. But he needed to end his embarrassing behavior.

Fortunately, watching his brother and John Watson over the years had showed him something very important: maybe caring isn't so bad.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was lonely. He needed a goldfish and she had been swimming around him for years.

"Good morning, Sir."

Mycroft Holmes was going to ask Anthea out on a date.

The elder Holmes held his hands together on top of his desk. He smiled at her which only caused Anthea to give him a questioning look. "Good morning, how are you?"

He watched his assistant look around his office. She concentrated on the shelves and books, looking out the window to see anything suspicious. "I'm well, Sir. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Thank you."

She approached his desk carefully and pulled out her phone. Seconds later, Mycroft's left side ringed indicating a text. He pulled out his phone and read the text carefully. He couldn't help but chuckle a little.

"No we aren't being watched."

The two both pocketed their phones. Anthea proceeded to cross her arms. "I couldn't help but assume as every morning you just bark orders at me."

"I do not!" Mycroft looked genuinely offended.

Her laughter was music to his ears. "You need to get that stick up your arse removed immediately."

Mycroft leaned back in his chair. "How will the other employees react when they discover you talk to your boss in such a manner?"

"They won't. Because they won't find out." Anthea smirked.

He grinned at her. "You are too confident in your position. I am after all your employer. I can make things…happen."

He was surprised to see sadness cross over her face, her bottom lip quivering in the slightest bit. "You wouldn't actually exploit me would you?"

Mycroft stumbled over for a response. He blushed and barely replied clearly. "Of course, of course not. I-I would never-"

"You are too weak." Anthea laughed.

He could feel the steam of frustration build within his head.

Anthea leaned against his desk. "You've been falling for too many tricks these past few weeks. You were once so suave. Is there something wrong with you?"

Mycroft cleared his throat. This was it. This was his time to shine. "Actually, Anthea, there was something I would like to speak to you about. Or actually something I'd like to ask you."

"What's that, boss?" Anthea sat down in the arm chair in front of his desk. Mycroft couldn't help but notice that she sat with pride and confidence. It was terribly attractive.

He cleared his throat. "Well, Anthea, I've been thinking over the past few weeks about certain things. I can see that we have become very good friends, and I do appreciate your company whether it just be doing paperwork or traveling. Well I hope you also think we are good friends because I do think so. It's quite hard to deduce your opinion on the matter as the concept is foreign-"

"Is this going somewhere, sir?"

Mycroft shook his head. "Yes, yes it is. I don't really do this often; in fact I have never done this before in my life as far as I know. Oh, I probably shouldn't have confessed that. This is the exact reason why I'm doing this. I must stop this foolish behavior at once. With my position, I can't risk making a complete mockery of myself as-"

Anthea rolled her eyes. "Sir, rambling."

"This is exactly my point!" Mycroft gently exclaimed. "I cannot stop doing that! I tell myself I won't, yet the words that come out of my mouth make rubbish sense-"

"Sir!"

The most powerful man in Britain halted his flow of speech at once and looked at Anthea. She had the most serious face, one that he had only seen when there was danger in the premises.

He smiled and leaned back in his chair, pretending to have a nice conversation with her. "Where?"

Anthea followed and started rubbing the edge of his desk. "Your left. Atop the adjacent building. He is fitting a scope on his sniper right now."

"Anything from my right?" Mycroft laughed.

Anthea tucked hair behind her ear. "Practically symmetrical."

Mycroft went to put his hands on the arms of his chair to get up but Anthea decided to purposely drop a cup full of writing utensils on the floor.

"The moment you step around your desk, they will have the perfect angle to take out both sides of your head. "

"What do you suggest?" He sighed.

Anthea began typing on her blackberry. "Have you triggered security?"

"Naturally." Mycroft answered. "Just like you have sent out extra texts to security."

"Why haven't they shown up, Sir?"

"It is obvious that these people were our security. Now what do you suggest?"

Anthea huffed in frustration. "Well, I'm not the clever one here am I? I'm sure you have a plan already."

"I'm just trying to have a bit of fun." Mycroft pouted.

"Mycroft."

"Anthea."

Before the assistant can reply, the window crashed open and a large thud echoed throughout the room. Both eyes widened at the bomb now ticking on the office floor.

"Were you expecting that, Sir?"

"The probability of it happening. No. For god's sake, run!"

The two burst through the wooden office doors. Anthea had already kicked her heels off and was left in her stockings. Mycroft ran with his jacket flapping and a hand unconsciously on his assistant's back. They ran down the stairs and through the levels of the building. As he saw the opening to the door on the ground floor, Mycroft counted down.

_5…_

He could hear Anthea breathing hard.

_…__4…_

The cramp on his side was unbearable.

_…__3…_

They both ran faster.

_…__2…_

Oh shit.

_…__1…_

He forgot his umbrella in his office.

_0._


End file.
